


Hunting Grounds

by bbvqueen



Series: The Venom In Our Veins [6]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Animal Death, BDSM, Blood and Violence, Complete irrevocable submission, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Slavery, Dom/sub, Drinking Piss, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gore, Gun Kink, Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Personality Disorders, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Watersports, animal cruelty, broken people having broken relationships, dark themes, face fucking, super spooky bbv halloween special, torture techniques, unsafe bdsm practices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-28 16:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbvqueen/pseuds/bbvqueen
Summary: Big Boss and Venom Snake go camping in the woods.Because everyone knows no bad things happen in the woods, like, ever.(1991)





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fault of group of very nice people who like my very bad goreporn. You know who you are.
> 
> PLAYLIST  
> 1\. [I Am The Beast - Blue Stahli](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGAwCFunIjA)  
> 2\. [Let Me Leave - Mari Sainio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQKwTtKdwqw)  
> 3\. [White Flag - The Romanovs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUSMnfYh9iw)

 

_April 1991_

_Somewhere out there_

 

**Day 1**

 

The fact that they’re gonna have at least a week all to themselves _almost_ makes up for the arduous backpacking trek through the Canadian bush, going strong on its fifth hour without so much as a single break. Well — no, actually, that’s a lie. It definitely makes up for it, because, _god_ , if he can count on anything, it’s that he’s going to spend about two thirds of that week getting absolutely wrecked.

By dick. Shit, it’s really been a while, and the exhaustion creeping up on him makes it progressively difficult to think about anything else.

Venom sighs for the umpteenth time since they’ve embarked on their journey somewhere close to a remote village in Yukon (the name of which he can neither pronounce nor remember), only to head out into the forest to an even more remote location. So remote and secluded, in fact, they might as well be on a different planet. At least Big Boss had said something along those lines, though he’s fairly sure Canada’s varied wildlife would like to disagree, and Venom’s considering just how… _romantic_ camping out in the woods can be, given temperatures slightly below comfortable, and possibly hungry bears (not the sexy kind) hanging around.

Then again, at least they’ll have no issue keeping each other warm. Always look on the bright side.

…Wait, did they even bring a tent or anything of the sort? As Big Boss usually does, he hadn’t communicated much to Venom aside from a time and place, emphasized discretion, and that he should bring _stuff._ Woods. Hiking. It’s gonna be fun.

Feels more like he’s forced to undergo some weird coming-of-age ritual with dad in order to become a _real man_. Yeah, that sounds like Boss. _Please don_ _’t make me shoot a moose._

Anyway, shelter. He decides to ask.

“Did you bring a tent?”

Big Boss stops and turns around.

“What?”

“What?”

Ah, yeah, that’s why they had spent the trip so far mostly in silence. Big Boss takes off his full face helmet, and Venom takes that as his cue to do the same, now that they are far enough out here and cut off from modern civilization. He can’t remember the last time breathing fresh air has felt so good - as does finally being able to see the other man’s - his own - face with his own eyes, and not obscured by two layers of UV visors. Sweat has made his hair stick to his forehead.

“I was asking about a tent,” Venom says, unconsciously scything his own fingers through his hair, smoothing it back. He’d rented a used bike for his trip to the rendezvous point, and picked up most of what he’s brought with him on the way. Mostly rations. And medical supplies, because, duh.

Big Boss raises his brows. “Didn’t I tell you?”

 _Nope. You never tell me anything._ His clueless expression seems to be all the endorsement Big Boss needs to go on, and tell him now, in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from any supplier.

“There’s a cabin up there,” he says, resuming their hike, always leading. And Venom, always following, helmet tucked under his arm.

“Well, there’s supposed to be one, anyway. According to Ocelot.”

“Oh.”

A cabin does sound a lot more inviting, indeed. And definitely more romantic. Not that Big Boss, caveman extraordinaire, gives much of a damn… but still.

“Used to belong to some high ranking officer - place they went for some off-the-grid wilderness retreat to brood over their bad life choices, I guess. Been abandoned for years. Don’t really know the details, but saves us some work.”

Now that he thinks about it, it _had_ seemed like Big Boss was following a very specific, invisible path; not wandering around aimlessly through the woods until they find a suitable spot to make camp.

“I just thought -”

“You just thought I didn’t know where I was going,” Big Boss interrupts him mid-sentence. “You also didn’t notice the trail blaze. Well, to be fair, I got a little lost back there, when I went for a leak. Marking’s are faded, and I haven’t had to decipher these in…”

He pauses, notably. Thoughtfully.

“Not in a long while.”

Sure, he hadn’t noted the trail blaze, if there was any. Venom has no trouble admitting that he’s not the biggest expert on wilderness survival. What he does take note of though is that Big Boss is talking quite a bit, and when he does, it’s usually to mask the fact that he’s still not telling him much. At least nothing meaningful.

“Anyway, shouldn’t be much further now,” Big Boss reassures him, tackling another slope. Hopefully the last. But who knows - maybe it won’t be as terrible as it seems right now. He’s got everything he needs to survive right in front of him. As long as he has that, he doesn’t really care where he’s going.

 

***

 

The sun is already starting to set when, after another hour long trudge, they finally reach a clearing, very obviously carved into the landscape by human hand rather than nature itself. Big Boss is far ahead of him at this point, maintaining the same stamina he had in his prime, while Venom has to admit that he spends way too many days in a month sedentary. He wonders if the other man can tell - probably.

There is a decently sized, two stories log cabin, alright, partly perched on a shallow hill. The foundation is large, and made of stone chunks - though it might as well be a basement, but there’s no door or windows from what he can see, so probably not.

What’s more concerning is the general condition of the cabin, because Big Boss wasn’t kidding when he said it’s been abandoned for years - more like _decades_.

A set of rickety wooden stairs leads up to the porch and what’s presumably the main entrance, but some of them have already collapsed, making even that short ascent a rather unsafe procedure. The other side of the cabin looks even worse, where an uprooted tree has crashed into one of the rooms, likely rendering it completely unusable.

Venom’s fairly sure that upon closer inspection, he would find even more points that mark their prospective shelter as a safety hazard. As weirdly idyllic as this location seems at first glance - there’s even a narrow creek running along the base of the hill, the peaceful, quiet patter of water - something about the whole thing immediately strikes him as not being quite right, like a photo shot with the wrong lens, subtly distorted.

He stills, while Big Boss continues unaware, briefly struggling with the sudden urge to turn around and leave. _You shouldn_ _’t be here._

Or maybe, just maybe, Kaz and Ocelot had subjected him to way too many crappy horror flicks that started just like this, back in the day.

Yeah. That’s gotta be it. Not like he can just walk up to Big Boss and say, _Hey, Boss, I_ _’m getting some really bad mojo from this place, mind if we spend the night walking all the way back?_

His feet are killing him. So is his back, so he ends up doing the same as Big Boss: carelessly dropping his backpack and whatever else he got close to the decrepit cabin, carefully hopping up the stairs, and heading inside.

Aaand yep, it’s even worse. Though he’s sure it’s been quite nice, once, and that the owner put a lot of work and detail into it. The little furniture there is is covered in multiple layers of dust, and some corners are dark from mold, or have been colonized by spiders. Others have fought a futile battle with a fireplace gone out of control. Just from the door frame he can spot a dead - what, beaver? Would explain the smell.

If only that was the only dead animal. There are a number on the walls, on shelves and above the fireplace, staring lifelessly at him, displayed as trophies. This has never been just someone’s peaceful nature getaway - it’s been their hunting ground, complete with lodge.

Venom’s never really gotten behind the idea of hunting for sport, and somewhat bitterly he thinks back to a belittling remark Big Boss had once made in regards to his ‘petting zoo’.

Anyway, the scenery isn’t doing anything to decrease the bad mojo, and a part of him - a huge part - hopes that Big Boss won’t insist on actually sleeping inside here. He’d much prefer the outdoors to whoever’s mancave this is. And they got sleeping bags, at the very least.

“Um,” he makes a noise, trying to get Big Boss’s attention. He’s eerily quiet, looking at things. When he doesn’t react immediately, Venom clears his throat, louder.

_Instructions?_

“Why don’t you… set up a campfire. It’s getting dark and I think we can both agree that spending the night inside wouldn’t be the best idea. Not until we’ve assessed the damage.”

Thank god they are on the same page. As rare of an occurrence that is.

“I could work on getting this place into a more livable state tomorrow,” Venom suggests softly. “You know - do some rough cleaning, fix up the -”

Big Boss shakes his head.

“Not worth it. It’ll provide some basic shelter should the weather turn on us. That’s all we need, really… besides, I’m not that eager to be cooped up inside again. Spent most of winter like that.”

“You always were the outdoorsy type,” Venom says, thoughts briefly wandering off to some thematically related, decidedly pornographic fantasies. And some of those are definitely new. Involving trees.

_Get your mind out of the gutter, what are you, a horny teenager?_

“Can’t argue with that,” Big Boss says, with a genuine smile. “Anyway, you take care of the fire, I wanna take another look around.”

“Yessir,” Venom replies, tempted to advise him to be careful because he trusts neither the ceiling nor the wooden planks that make up the floor, but it wouldn’t make much of a difference with him, really.

He’s been given a task for the time being, so he sets out to find a nice, even spot for their campfire, as well as a number of sizable rocks to place down in a closed circle. Tinder and kindling pose no problem either, and all in all it doesn’t take Venom more than a couple of minutes to set everything up, only a couple of feet away from the cabin.

Until he realizes that he hasn’t actually brought any matches, much less a lighter. Big Boss most certainly has one. The easiest thing to do would to just go and ask him about it, but that would be uncomfortably embarrassing - everyone knows that Big Boss is a survival expert and knows at least a dozen ways to make fire in a pinch, and well, logically, so does Venom.

In theory.

He decides to try his luck with a simple fire plow; finding a thicker branch which he splits in half with his survival knife, creating a flat surface into which to carve a groove. He carves the end of another stick to be somewhat pointy and fit nicely into the groove, and that’s where it starts being tedious.

Crouching in front of the fire, he attempts to create continues friction by quickly rubbing the two pieces of wood together to produce coal. He’s pretty sure he’s done this before. Successfully, too.

Is it supposed to take _this_ long?

“This is painful to watch,” is Big Boss’s offhand comment, and Venom’s tools slip out of his fingers and towards the ground when he reacts just in time to catch the zippo the other man tosses him. He’d been so concentrated on getting this fire started that he hadn’t even taken note of him emerging from the cabin again.

So much for not embarrassing himself.

“Did I never teach you these things? I’m pretty sure I gave everyone a refresher course on survival basics,” Big Boss goes on while Venom, fiddling with the lighter to ignite the tinder, catches another whiff of smoke curling towards the sky, from the corner of his eye. Of course the first thing Big Boss needs after physical exercise is a cigar. Venom knows that all too well.

“Don’t really remember, to be honest,” is his truthful reply. Big Boss flops down right in front of the growing fire, effortlessly catching and pocketing his lighter when it’s tossed back to him.

Venom supposes it’s a little strange how easily he slips into ‘housewife mode’, as Big Boss had teasingly called his behavior the last time they met, because for him it feels absolutely natural to take care of what would be their dinner, which is why he’s brought a bunch of rations. Standard MCI, but enough to last them through the week. He knows Big Boss is not a fan, but -

What’s he playing with, anyway?

“Did you bring that rifle with you?” Venom asks him while fishing for the can opener, ‘cause he’s fairly sure that rifle wouldn’t fit into his backpack.

“Nah,” Big Boss replies, at length. He’s… clearly focused on feeling out the bolt-action mechanism of the firearm and using his own sleeve to wipe of the dust and polish the barrel, with a gentleness that causes Venom to frown. Deeply.

He knows what’s gonna happen next.

“The Winchester M70. She’s an old lady and probably a bit rusty, but still in great shape by the looks of it. Just needs a little love - I’m gonna take her for a date tomorrow.”

Venom gives him the blankest stare he’s capable of.

Because he’s not going to be jealous of a fucking hunting rifle. Nope. Not happening.

He watches the bizarre display for a moment, almost forgetting about the can of meat he’s holding slightly above the fire with a pair of pliers to heat it up - Big Boss playing with his new toy, tentatively aiming at random trees through the scope, running his hands along her length… along it’s length. _It._

He sighs dreamily, “Just beautiful. I haven’t held one of these in so long - here.” He suddenly thrusts the weapon towards Venom, who almost loses his balance.

“Touch her.”

“What? I…”

“Come on, you’re gonna enjoy it. Touch - “

“I don’t wanna touch her! _It._ It’s a goddamn rifle!”

The can’s contents almost catch on fire and Venom scoots away. Of all the things he’s seen Big Boss do - this has probably got to be the most genuinely disturbing.

“Besides, someone’s gotta take care of our dinner, so… just let me do this.”

Venom is pretty sure this is the only time he’s ever seen Big Boss _pout_ at him.

“Your loss,” he says, casting a sidelong, pejorative glance at the variety of cans Venom’s pulled out of his backpack. “And I sure as hell am not gonna eat that slop the entire week. I’m gonna get us some real food tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that’s… kinda what I was expecting,” Venom admits, and if he’s entirely honest with himself… he doesn’t like the rations a whole lot, either. Some fresh meat would be pretty nice, but at the same time he just can’t really find it in himself to endorse hunting when they got plenty of food that would then go to waste. But he knows Big Boss well enough, as he should - he retains a large primal part within his personality with a distinctive hunter’s mindset. He just feels better hunting his own food, and it’s a leisure activity on top of that where he gets to use all his senses. Venom can’t really fault him for that. It’s just…

There’s something missing there, a gap inside himself, an unlived experience. He can understand it from a logical standpoint, but not from an emotional one.

Still. There’s some strangely endearing about all of it.

Big Boss gets his meatloaf can once he finishes his cigar, while Venom settles for something slightly more vegetarian for now. The other man shovels the processed and preserved food into his mouth with open disgust.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Venom tries to defuse the situation.

“It’s edible,” Boss says, sternly. “I’ve eaten worse.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“You ever seen a camel spider?”

“ - Nevermind, don’t wanna hear about it.”

At least he’s still finding it amusing to mess with him, cause he gives a hearty laugh that makes Venom smile in turn. The sun is long gone at this point, and despite his earlier reservations about this whole trip, it doesn’t feel so bad now. There’s nothing out here they wouldn’t be able to deal with, and any bears should be afraid of Big Boss, not the other way around.

“Well, then don’t make it a habit to be so nosy. Some things are better left in the dark.”

At some point, Venom passes him his canteen of water. Water supply might become a problem later, but there’s the creek, and frankly he just doesn’t want to worry about any of that right now. It can wait until tomorrow, especially with Big Boss being in a good mood. That’s rare enough as it is. Seeing him happy makes him happy, and the opposite holds true as well. They resonate with each other like that.

“You know, though… I don’t think I ever told you, but I used to be a hunting guide for a while - tried to make a living like that,” Big Boss opens up to him, after a while, staring at the fire, brow furrowed in contemplation.

“No, I didn’t know… when was that?”

“After Operation Snake Eater. Had no clue what the hell to do with my life. And it’s just something else I’m good at.”

“Why did you stop?”

Big Boss’s shoulders briefly raise in a shrug. Venom sees him feel for the rifle resting on the ground, at his side.

“You know how it is. Sooner or later the past catches up to you - people find you,” he says, resting the rifle’s stock against his shoulder, taking aim. Adjusting and rotating until the crosshair is focused on Venom, to make his point.

“Hunt you down without mercy.”

A second later, he drops the weapon, and the fire’s soft crackle is all that fills the silence between them.

There’s been a mood shift, and Venom would rather not let it progress any further in that direction. Thankfully Big Boss changes the topic by himself by redirecting his gaze towards the night sky, and Venom quickly adds some fuel wood to the fire to prevent it from going out too soon.

“You can actually see the stars all the way out there. Too bad I forgot half of my constellations…”

Stars. Constellations. That’s right. All the stars are aligned - he’s alone with Big Boss, there’s a romantic campfire, a gun, talk about food. This is the closes he will ever get to a date (he will just ignore Mrs Winchester). The parameters are literally perfect, all he has to do is play his cards right.

Time to be a smooth ass motherfucker, Venom Snake.

“So,” he starts - not a good start, but a start anyway - shifting an inch closer. Because there are definitely too many inches between them right at this precise moment.

“What are you going to hunt tomorrow? Any uh, favorites?”

“Well that really depends on what I can find, first and foremost. On the way here I’ve definitely seen marks of hares - poop, mostly - so that’s a safe bet. Not a whole lot of meat on them though - “

“Uh huh.” Scoot. Closer. “What about snakes? Thought you liked those - “

“Yeah, but we’re not in the jungle.” _Oh come on, you choose to be dense at the worst fucking times._ “And taking entertainment value into consideration, those aren’t a whole lotta fun to hunt down, anyway. Boars are pretty good. Bears too, but risky.”

One more inch. And as if on cue - because that’s definitely the kind of company they need out here - a distant howl can be heard. Decidedly canine. Big Boss being Big Boss, though - his reaction to a potential threat has to be a flippant one.

“Or that guy. He’s already pissing me off.”

“You’d resort to cannibalism?”

“In a dire situation? Seems more like something _you_ _’re_ considering, what with you being all up in my face.”

All up his face and halfway in his lap, to be exact. Yep. Smooth.

“Well, _Sir_ , to be fair,” he says, lowering his voice down into a seductive whisper against another coarse pair of lips, “I seem to have acquired first-hand evidence that you find the idea quite appealing.”

His hand cups and squeezes the prominent bulge between Big Boss’s legs for emphasis. Yeah, that’s… definitely arousal. _Sizable_ arousal. And not just down there, but in his eyes as well, the slight hitch in his next exhale. Venom softly kisses the corners of his mouth - his upper lip, the bottom lip, playfully - but always with reverence. He won’t go further than this without a clear signal.

“Fucking ballsy,” Big Boss chuckles eventually, and pushes him down by his shoulder. That’s a signal.

And, Jesus Fucking Christ in his goddamn heaven, he’d wanted nothing more than to go down on him all day - and so, to no one’s surprise, it takes Venom less than five seconds to deal with Big Boss’s fly, pull out his cock, and put his mouth on it.

Fuck.

He moans once he’s completely sheeted in his mouth, the taste and texture of his dick being enough to send him into overdrive. He reminds himself to keep it slow, easy. It’s been a long day - they are both exhausted from the hike - and the best he can do now is help his Boss to unwind and ease the tension from his stiff muscles. As much as he enjoys the sex, he’s still going to approach it with a service mindset. Make him feel good. That’s all that matters.

He breathes steadily through his nose and raises his head, glancing up at him - of course he’s watching - and lets his leaking cockhead slide off the wet, plush bed of his tongue. Venom lazily runs his tongue along his shaft, from the base to the top, making sure to give the same amount of attention to every side and inch until he’s fully grown. Big Boss enjoys the obscene view and noises he’s making while he worships his cock like that, he knows. It’s self-indulgent.

Venom places one hand on his hip, runs it along his inner thigh.

“You’re tense,” he observes, without neglecting his work. His cock should be the only thing that’s hard.

“Huh,” comes a noise from above. “Guess why.”

Like that’s a problem at this point.

Venom wraps his lips around his glans again, sliding down, as much as he can while still being comfortable. His hand wanders back up to his hip, to the front, below his navel, where his fingers start to massage him in small circles, with light pressure. Big Boss sighs, leans back until he’s resting on his elbow.

It’s easy now, when it comes. Hard to imagine that this had once seemed like an insurmountable task - all he has to do is swallow fast enough to keep up with the flow. His urine is warm in his throat and belly, and preferable to most of the liquor he’s tried and hated in the past. It’s intimate. Romantic in this strange, warped way that’s normal for them.

When he’s done after a couple more minutes and his flow ebbs down to a slight trickle, Venom returns to servicing him with his tongue, until he’s clean.

Not a single drop spilled.

Not finished yet, though.

“Don’t tell me that’s all the reward I’m getting for following you all the way out here,” he quips, unable to help himself. He closes his fist around Big Boss’s heavy balls, kneading them.

“Your balls are so full they’re about to explode.”

“You little shit,” Big Boss grunts, and yanks him down by his scalp until he chokes on his dick.

Okay, maybe he deserved that. Any control he might’ve had is wrestled away from him in an instant and without much effort when Big Boss uses his throat the way he likes to use it - hard, fast, brutal, _deep_. Tear-inducing and gagging guaranteed.

He’s always loved the heady rush that comes with being completely helpless and at his mercy. It never takes him long like this, although to Venom it always feels like an eternity. There’s a lot of pressure behind his load when he shoots it into his mouth and throat, so hard and fast Venom can’t swallow all of it. Big Boss keeps thrusting, and pulls his head back for the last few spurts, to make sure he gets a good amount of cum into his eye and nose.

Lovely. If Venom had to describe the current situation in just one word, he’d pick that one.

“You’re so much of a fucking slut you couldn’t even wait until tomorrow to get your mouth on my dick,” Big Boss rumbles at him, and, well, he’s not exactly wrong…

“Mh,” Venom makes a vague noise, too busy licking over his lips and running his fingers over his face and then sticking those into his mouth to run his tongue between them.

Boy. Okay. Let’s be real for a moment.

“Gotta make every second count. I know some crap always comes up and with my luck, we’ll be heading back tomorrow…”

“I don’t even have any means of communication with me, you fucking dumbass. I’m completely off the grid. If something happens it’s not my problem. It’s only the two of us out here, for however long I want. That clear enough for you?”

“Crystal…unngh.” His face is covered in dirt on top of leftover semen when Big Boss finally releases his grip on his hair, and Venom plants into the ground.

“Now wash up and get our sleeping bags,” Big Boss orders, while tucking himself in. Venom needs another moment or two to steady himself, then does what he’s told to do, while Big Boss has assigned himself to fire and clean-up duty.

Ten minutes later, they lay side by side, each wrapped up in their own sleeping bag. Big Boss is fast asleep, which is untypical for him, but Venom considers that a good sign. Means he feels safe out here, with him as company. Or maybe it’s the hike that did him in… the blowjob, not so much.

He looks out for the stars dotting the sky, and listens to the fire crackling quietly, now only big enough to keep them warm.

He thinks he’s starting to get it. He’s never liked spending the night outside in the field, but then again he’d usually been alone, or with companions that couldn’t speak. Being with Big Boss in particular, while the sense of urgency is removed… this feels different. Feels like he’s learning something.

Maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad idea. No - it definitely wasn’t a bad idea. He lets his eyes fall shut and within moments, he’s off.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anybody cares for random tidbits of information - Big Boss having been a hunting guide after MGS3 is actually a canon fact; he mentions this to Para-Medic in Portable Ops.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is almost 7k words of Venom going "nope", which will be his mood for the rest of the story because we all love seeing him miserable, right
> 
> right?

**Day 2**

 

 

The first thing Venom does when slowly blinking the sleep out of his eyes the next morning is feel for the warm body next to him, only to shoot straight up, overtaken by panic because _it isn_ _’t there_.

The note he finds instead, written in Big Boss’s typical, barely decipherable scrawl, soon makes him breathe a sigh of relief - followed by a frown.

 

_on my date with lady winchester._

_be a good wife and take care of the household_

 

…Oh, well then. Sounds like he’s going to have fun. There’s also a set of sweaty pants and a shirt crumpled up in heap next to the empty sleeping bag, right in the dirt, no doubt Big Boss’s.

And did he seriously just make a cuckold out of him?

Hold on, there’s more - partially hidden by his thumb, but when he shifts his grip accordingly it also says:

 

_ps._

_sadly can't stick my dick in her though so you still got that going for you_

 

That’s… probably as close to a confession he’ll ever get, so Venom counts that as a win. Honestly - he’s just glad Big Boss bothered to leave him a message at all, and gave him some peace of mind while he’s absent. Venom would be pretty screwed out here all by himself, unable to find a way out of the forest without a guide. Or at least it would take him much longer, and an exhausted hiker makes for easy prey.

Well, time to do the housewife thing then, he supposes. Sore back be damned.

 

***

 

There is something strangely satisfying about completing perfectly mundane tasks while waiting for Big Boss to get back. Laundry is one of them.

Sure, a washing machine would be preferable, but he manages to get rid of the worst of the grime with the help of the small pond he’s found, daring enough to follow the creek up north for about 15 minutes. It even comes with a tiny waterfall, and jagged rocks he can substitute for a washboard. Really should’ve brought some detergent…

Once the apparel is relatively spotless, he returns to camp to strain a rope between two trees to hang their clothes out to dry. After that, he makes one more trip to the pond to fetch some water in the kettle he’s brought, and then setting up the campfire (Big Boss had, mercifully, left his lighter behind) to boil it and kill the bacteria. It’s fairly clean otherwise, so it should probably be safe to drink.

With those two tasks completed and Big Boss nowhere in sight, Venom notices his own stomach grumbling. Since the fire is already going, he might as well have a little snack - something more substantial this time, so he goes for a can of beefsteak, and warms it up.

Just as he’s about to dig in, though, he hears something crunch behind him. He’s just about to welcome Big Boss back, but stops himself when he sees a grey-furred, four-legged creature next to an evergreen, stalking towards him. And immediately freezing when it realizes it’s been spotted.

Venom does the same, and goes rigid. Not out of fear…

The wolf looks exactly like DD, but a little bigger, and leaner - probably malnourished. And with two eyes.

_Shit._

The animal is quiet and doesn’t move from its spot, and Venom’s unsure what to do. He has no firearm in his reach, should it choose to attack him. He could fend the wild wolf off with his knife, but he’d rather not spill any blood if he can avoid it… Big Boss is doing enough of that, he’s sure.

So he’ll try the diplomatic approach. A peace offering. Doesn’t look like the wolf has rabies, so it’s probably just looking for something to eat.

When Venom moves - smart enough not to stand up, but crawling closer -, it takes a step back and growls a warning. Venom stops soon after, and all he does is slowly, carefully, empty the can of beefsteak on the ground, before returning to the campfire in the same manner.

He watches the wolf out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise pretends to not be bothered by its presence.

It approaches, closer. Stops at the little heap of meat and sniffs it. Once it’s deemed safe to feed on, the wolf swoops it up between its jaws and dashes back into the deep woods, leaving Venom alone and unharmed.

With a sigh, he relaxes, and goes for another ration - stale crackers with peanut butter, this time.

“Just trying to survive, huh…”

 

***

 

Even when the sky is bright and blue, cloudwatching does get pretty boring after a while.

It’s been hours now, and Venom’s done everything he can think of doing - done the laundry, rolled up and put away the sleeping bags, gathered wood, cleaned up the site and even sorted through his backpack (though he doesn’t dare touch Big Boss’s without permission). He knows rationally that there is no reason to worry, although doubt is starting to chew away at him. When Big Boss is in his element, he loses track of time, and Venom’s not even bitter that he’d decided to venture out all by himself this morning, well aware that he’d be more of a hindrance than an asset on a hunting expedition led by someone who might as well have grown up among wolves.

He’s just bored out of his mind. Had he known he’d be spending hours on end alone, he would’ve brought a book, or his walkman. He even considers beating off for a split second, quickly deciding that it would feel pretty empty and he’s not in the mood, anyway.

Big Boss hadn’t seemed particularly enthused last night either, come to think of it, but Venom chalks that up to the fact that they’d been walking for hours and general exhaustion.

…God, he really is a horny slut. Venom buries his face in his hands and broods over his bad life choices.

It’s not like he’s thinking about it _all_ the time. Back on base he doesn’t think about getting laid or even Big Boss for days - when he’s busy trying to pretend that he’s the man himself and actually a capable leader. It’s really just when he’s physically around him that his libido shifts up a gear, which really speaks volumes when it comes to Big Boss’s influence and Venom’s neediness. But with all the shit they’ve been through so far, he still finds it surprisingly easy to accept. They’re both broken beyond repair, might as well keep each other company in the dumpster life has chucked them both into, and rot together until nothing’s left of them.

It’s fine. They’re fine.

Having nothing to do and being alone with his thoughts for long periods of time is never fine, though, because Venom’s mangled brain has the annoying habit to conjure up the weirdest crap, including seemingly living and breathing entities that terrorize him. Other mental breaks include psychotic episodes and spontaneous schizophrenia. Been there, done that - and out here, he really doesn’t want want to risk it. Fortunately he’s learned to recognize the warning signs and how to manage his mental state on his own, so he just needs to find something to distract himself.

Which leads him to the cabin.

Big Boss had found a toy inside there, after all. If all else fails, he could just start fixing it up anyway, although he knows that there’s no point to it and he’d need the entire week to make it into something resembling a comfy cabin. Even so, it’ll keep him busy and engaged, which is all that matters.

The door swings open with a lengthy creak. It has no lock - like the owner never once worried about unsolicited guests. The wooden floor responds to every step with a strained groan.

There are a number of glassless windows, but the cabin remains dark and dusty. Uninviting. Even so, Venom can’t deny that he’s curious to know what kind of person had once built and owned it. Obviously another hunting enthusiast… The other tidbit of information he’d gotten from Big Boss had been fairly inconclusive.

It’s obviously been built for one, maybe two people - not much of a family getaway. The front door leads directly into the fairly large living area with a small kitchen lacking electrical appliances. The only bedroom remains inaccessible due to a giant tree that’s crashed into it, taking the roof with it. The third and last room seems to double as closet and washing area, of course without any actual plumbing. Wouldn’t be an authentic wilderness retreat with too many comforts of modern living, he supposes.

He briefly scans the shelves and wooden crates in the last room. There are a number of chemicals - which he identifies as preserving agents - and surgical tools, among other things. All of which lead him to assume that the owner of the cabin had been a capable taxidermist, too. Which reminds him…

Okay, there’s one thing he’s gotta do, though. And that’s chucking the dead and rotting beaver out a window. At least that wolf from earlier will have something to chew on that’s not human, that way.

With the stench of rotting flesh slowly but surely dissipating, Venom is able to take in the rest of the interior, most of it unsettling him in one way or another. The rifle cabinet not far from the fireplace catches his eye first - this must be where Big Boss had found the Winchester, and there’s even ammunition still left for it, too. Pretty irresponsible to just leave a working rifle out in the open like this, but then again… obviously no one had accidentally wandered into this cabin in decades, so it’s probably a moot point.

Above the fireplace, a couple of animal heads are mounted. He identifies an elk and bison, and a very obvious wolf at the center; visage molded into a threatening, soundless growl, canines bared. Smaller, stuffed animals - mostly avians and reptiles - are displayed like statues on the mantel, dead since decades yet frozen in time, posing like they were still alive… making him feel like they may lash out at him any second. Venom touches his fingers to the plumage of a preserved owl, wings spread out majestically in mid-flight, but it feels cold and stiff.

This has got to be the most undignified way to die he can think of. Someone hunts you down for fun - not even out of necessity - then cuts you open to remove your intestines and peel off your skin, only to stuff you with cotton and sew you back into a more grotesque version of yourself, making a mockery of your life. All for the bragging rights. All to keep a glorious reminder of the hunt, and the kill.

He smiles humorlessly. Well, isn’t this sort of what he is, too? Only that he barely resembles the man he had been years back, when he’d still been alive. And his stitches are a lot more obvious.

Having seen enough, Venom steps back and almost trips over the tattered rug, which is actually… which _used_ to be a grizzly, now that he’s taking a closer look at it. Of course. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how someone could feel comfortable sleeping surrounded by animal corpses. Or any type of corpse, really. To him there’s not much of a difference - hunting down animals for recreation and decoration purposes is just a lot more socially accepted.

He supposes there are some matters which he and Big Boss will never feel the same way about.

Enough of that, though. Thank god there’s more than dead animals, and out of boredom Venom starts to rummage through the kitchen cabinets, finding cans of food that date back to second World War. Yeah, they are definitely not going to open those. The bottles of liquor might a different story, though.

The label says 1939. Unopened. Now this is some vintage whiskey - he might have a small treasure on his hand, and he’s also fairly positive that his chance to get laid tonight just increased tenfold. Since the cabin remains gloomy he can’t make out the small font, so he carries it outside, studies it for a while - yep, this is _good shit_ , as Big Boss would say - and picks up his flashlight just in case he finds more hidden treasures.

Sadly his hunt for aphrodisiacs remains unsuccessful, but maybe that’s for the best. A tipsy Big Boss is fine and well, a trashed one… not so much. But, hey, he still hasn’t checked out the desk, which looks like it hasn’t been used even back in the day. In the corner behind it are some large empty picture frames, and close examination of the walls actually reveals some nails that are sticking out. Somehow he doesn’t think that these frames once contained photographs of dead animals. People, maybe?

Curious. He feels like he’s in a museum, trying to make sense of one single individual’s life. Only that there’s no guide to connect the dots for him.

He’s considered that this might be Big Boss’s place. _I used to be a hunting guide_ was a pretty strong hint, but if that’s the case, why not straight out say it? Besides - the point of being a hunting guide is to guide other hunters, and somehow he can’t imagine this place to have had many visitors. If any. This area isn’t public or easily reachable, and hunting here is probably illegal in the first place. Everything points towards someone who wanted to be alone.

The more he investigates and thinks about it, the more he’s invested. Which is good. Keeps his mind busy, and the unappealing decor is enough to keep certain other desires at bay.

He goes through a set of desk drawers, not daring to sit down on the nearby chair. There’s nothing of interest to be found, only another, smaller picture frame at the bottom drawer, which he almost misses since it’s at the far back. Probably empty too, anyway.

Only it’s not. There’s a black and white photograph in it, slightly faded. It shows an older man wearing a suit and a fedora, posing together with a small girl that couldn’t be older than five or six. She’s wearing a dress and confidently holds a rifle in her arms.

Who would give a girl that age a rifle?!

Venom makes a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, assuming these are the cabin owners. Even without the flag in the background of the image he would’ve assumed them to be American. So that man must be the high ranking officer. Huh.

He takes it out of the frame and, sure enough, there’s something written in beautiful cursive on the back, although almost illegible.

 

_Daddy’s so proud of his little girl_

_God bless you and America_

 

Venom catches himself shuddering. He returns the picture and the frame to the state he found them in.

That leaves him with the only remaining object that could be of some interest - a small bookcase, and it even actually _has_ books in it. Now if there’s only one in acceptable condition and content that manages to keep him entertained for a few more hours…

Ironically, though, the vast majority of books don’t even seem to be written in English. There’s Russian, French, Chinese, Spanish, German… and a couple of other languages. A polyglot, then? He can’t make out all but the title of one novel, in French: _Les Liaisons dangereuses._ Dangerous Liaisons. The title definitely rings a bell.

The few books that are in English are mostly nonfiction and of the educational variety. Psychology, history, politics, biology, anatomy, science, geography, philosophy… and unsurprisingly taxidermy. An English version of Sun Tzu’s _The Art Of War_ , in addition to what looks to the original text in Chinese. Difficult stuff you’d find in the library of a university. There are also two entire rows of dictionaries and encyclopaedias. All published in the 1950s or before, so pretty out of date.

Well, he didn’t come here to study, and while his French definitely isn’t as good as it used to be - being brainwashed will do that to you - he might as well give it a shot and get back into it. Big Boss is already roasting him way too often for being shit at foreign languages.

So he reaches for _Les Liaisons dangereuses_. The moment he starts tentatively flipping the pages he feels a slight prickle at the back of his hand - a disturbed spider - and loses his grasp on the book when reflexively trying to shake it off.

It drops to the floor. So does Venom, once the spider has scuttled away. Least it didn’t bite him. He has no clue if the local arachnids are venomous and a cause for concern… he doubts Big Boss would be happy to find him delirious from an insect bite on his return.

Just when he’s about to pick the novel back up, he notices something strange concerning the floor. A rather large gap between the panels, like a slit; almost big enough squeeze his finger through. There are also visible scratch marks, like if someone had moved furniture. The book case, to be exact.

Having a hunch as to what this might be, Venom checks for a similar gap on the other side of the bookcase, and pushes it aside. The small seedy carpet in front of it is kicked out of the way, hiding a carved-in handle.

He switches on his flashlight and aims it towards the ground.

Yep, that’s a trap door. Seems like the cabin has a basement after all, but usually they are walk-in basements for ease of access. Combine that with the fact that the actual entrance is not obvious - you would have to know about and look for it - Venom’s starting to get a bad feeling about this.

He opens it anyway, hinges screaming in protest. Nothing but a cough-inducing dust cloud jumps out at him, and some stairs are leading down into the darkness. Even with the flashlight he can’t make out anything distinctive.

Honestly, he’s probably worried about nothing. What’s the worst he could find down there, really? Camel spiders? Ghosts? An age-old ritual to summon the devil? The only thing he’d ever really have to fear out here is Big Boss, and he’s in a remarkably good mood. Venom doesn’t see that changing anytime soon. So what else could it be - probably just another storeroom. Perhaps someone’s been hiding Nazi gold. Lost artifacts. The holy grail.

Or just more whiskey. He could use some of that himself right now, what with his throat feeling so dry.

Right. _Some things are better left in the dark_ , he remembers Big Boss’s advice from last night, reaching for the door to close it. _Ignorance is strength._

But after a minute, his hand is still resting where it is and he still hasn’t closed it.

This is going to bother him the entire week. He’s not gonna rest until he knows what’s in that basement, if there’s anything at all.

And so, against his better judgment and completely ignoring that nagging, all-too-familiar impulse born out of a desire for self-preservation telling him to turn around and walk away, Venom decides to descend the short stairway into the darkness, anyway. _Down the rabbit hole Alice goes._

The stairs are a little more sturdy than those leading up to the porch, but also a lot more steep. He really has to watch his step here, given how much the basement resembles a concrete coffin. No windows at all. A light fixture on the low ceiling indicates that there might have been some source of electricity at some point.

Speaking of the low ceiling, he can barely stand up straight down here. He reminds himself not to hit his head.

Huh. The ratty curtain blocking the only path forward might explain why he’d been unable to make out anything from the top of the stairs. It does nothing to keep the stench away, though - there must be another rotting critter somewhere down here. Wonderful.

He pulls it aside, and it gives easily, granting access to what seems to be a huge, single room, stretching across the entire level directly below the cabin. Venom releases the breath he was holding in anticipation, expecting to see something… _something_ , he’s not exactly sure. It’s a little hard when you’re limited to a flashlight and can only see small pieces and outlines of an image at a time.

But the first thing he recognizes is a kennel. No, multiple kennels. Four in total, unless there are more in some other corner. Maybe hunting dogs were kept here? Seems a little cruel, but given what he knows about the owner so far, he didn’t seem to have much empathy for animals, anyway. He continues on. Construction supplies, bricks, a bucket, nails, wooden planks… What he manages to find next is a bit more concerning.

Some meat hooks dangle from the reinforced ceiling. A large, stainless steel table. Dozens and dozens of tools on the wall and in boxes… he can make out a saw, a crowbar, a hammer, pliers, knives… workshop items. Surgical tools as well. And a hatchet. Used.

Ugh. He does not like what this implies, but then again, it only makes sense - why wouldn’t a hunter slash taxidermist moonlight as a butcher? At least the guy’s consistent. Or so Venom thinks, until he examines a bit closer. There are all sorts of what he assumes to be restraints, from ropes over cable ties to an elaborate construction implementing iron chains and cuffs. The chains’ length is variable, and the ground directly in front and below is notably dark.

This… is not something that was made to restrain animals. Further findings consolidate his assumption - shock rods and a contraption he’s feels bad for knowing its use. A thumbscrew.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he exhales, tense. He’s seen and been in enough torture… _interrogation_ rooms that this doesn’t even upset him all that much, but it’s still fucking creepy and explains the weird feeling he’d had from the start. At least now it makes sense that Big Boss feels comfortable. After all, it’s another sadist’s little love nest. And probably a kidnapper’s, because he really, really doubts anyone would be enough of a willing masochist for _this,_ although you at least wouldn’t have to worry about anyone hearing your screams out here. Even Venom doesn’t feel the slightest hint of excitement looking at all of this stuff. It just looks and feels gross, like an actual prison. Or Camp Omega. Or the set of a slasher film… man, he really shouldn’t have agreed to that movie marathon last Halloween when he and most of the other base personnel had been bored to _death_.

…At least it’s not ghosts. Always look for the positives in any bad situation. And this _isn_ _’t_ a movie - no chainsaw wielding, leatherfaced psychopath is going to crash through the ceiling and come after him. Even then, he’s pretty sure he could hold his own. Maybe. He feels for the knife fastened to his belt. Still there.

Which is why he concludes that, while he’s already down here, he might as well commit to a more thorough investigation until Big Boss is back, so he at least has an interesting story to tell. There are still a bunch of shelves he hasn’t looked at yet, and the other unexplored half of the basement. He hasn’t given up hope on a larger whiskey stash yet.

He briefly looks through what other tools there might be, but they don’t even faze him anymore. It takes a while until the cone of his flashlight falls on a promising looking file cabinet, though he half expects it to be empty just like the desk drawers on the upper floor. This is true for the top two compartments.

“Hm?”

The last one won’t open. Stuck? He takes a closer look, and finds that it has a built in lock. Wouldn’t be locked for no reason now, would it…

It’s unlikely the key is in the immediate vicinity; even if it were, he has neither the time nor the patience to look for it. It’s not a safe, so brute force should work just as well.

He fetches the crowbar he’s seen earlier, and pries the locked compartment open without expending much effort. Jackpot. It’s by no means stuffed full of documents, but Venom manages to produce two folders - labeled confidential, of course - and notebooks.

Yeah, he’s definitely too deep into this to stop now, although he knows he probably should. Driven by his own morbid fascination with the history of this place and sheer curiosity, Venom carries his newest findings to one of the tables to sort through them. Big Boss can hunt wildlife – he will hunt facts. He takes a deep breath, opens the first folder. _Alright, here goes._

The amount of black he encounters already on the first page makes him deflate a little. It’s a typewritten profile, but all the interesting information - dates, full name - has been censored by a black marker, and no matter at what angle he shines his light at the paper, he can’t make it out. There are only initials. The resume describes the military career of an US soldier that doesn’t sound familiar at all. Nothing really catches his eye as he scans the document until he reaches the bottom.

 

_Allegations: Whistleblowing, leaking of state secrets_

_Termination approved._

 

That… sounds way too sinister for his liking. He browses through the other profiles, all similar, though belonging to different people with different careers: soldiers, including retired veterans; then diplomats, civil servants, NGO volunteers… Allegations range from ‘being highly uncooperative’ (whatever this is code for, in these cases) over espionage to high treason. What he gets from this is that someone was tasked with quiet clean-up work out here. Out in the wilderness, where people sometimes just so happen to vanish on their own. Convenient for a sadist… where’d he put the bodies?

There is that pertinent stench of -

No, not now. There’s still more; Venom puts the folder aside to open the other one. Not much in it, and again too much has been redacted. The first thing is a slip of paper - a neatly handwritten note.

_I trust you to handle this matter discreetly and according to the outlines we discussed. I hope this batch proves to be valuable demonstration material; even in their failings people can serve a purpose and be of use to someone else._

Well that’s ominous. He flips the paper. Nothing on that side, so that’s all there is. Much to his disappointment there’s only one other document in the folder. Looks like just a simple handwritten letter at first glance, but it’s actually… a psychological assessment report?

 

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX,_

_As per your request I am sending you my personal evaluation of our tests and observations from XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX, taking into consideration your account on past and current behavior and events, conduct disorder in the individual, and other internally reported incidents. Please keep in mind that due to the individual_ _’s age and ongoing development any diagnosis made at this point may be unreliable, and is subject to change. These are strictly my own informal opinions, drawing from experience with similar cases. Even so, I have of course tried to remain as objective as possible._

 _We_ _’ve observed a distinct, pervasive pattern of the following behaviors and symptoms:_

_* No to little ability to clearly and confidently differentiate between right and wrong actions, thoughts, or morals. Frequent failure to learn from own actions or feel remorse._

_* Ability to feel empathy towards other living organisms appears severely underdeveloped; cruelty was directed towards animals and the suffering of humans elicited no negative physical or emotional reaction. Not easy disturbed by violent situations in general, if anything takes a shameless interest in them and exudes almost childlike curiosity about what is happening._

_* A readiness to use and manipulate other beings for personal gain or shallow satisfaction. While doing so, the individual was also able to mimic observed behavior; appearing outwardly charming, empathetic, and even playful. An underlying, highly calculating nature is further supported by the results of the IQ test conducted XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX._

_* Pronounced arrogance has led to unnecessary risk-taking and irresponsible actions with possibly fatal consequences on more than one account. Individual seems to have delusions in regards to own abilities and may consider self superior to others._

_* Secretive and easy to agitate to the point of verbal and physical aggression. Prefers solitude over working or socializing with others in healthy, productive ways._

_* Individual is a compulsive liar, often telling two conflicting truths at different points of time. In denial when confronted, often blaming a lack of memory._

_My conclusion is therefore (which is yours as well, I am sure) that the individual meets many of the characteristics typical for sociopathy (or antisocial personality disorder). I assume you know very well how problematic and unpredictable such individuals can be; especially if not educated and raised in proper ways. Integration into any kind of society or community will prove difficult if not impossible, and might be potentially damaging for whoever he chooses to associate with. I will be upfront with you: I think there are too many risk factors. But I can also see the potential - kept firmly on the right path by someone as steadfast as yourself, bestowed with the right ideology_ _…_

 _Now, whether he will turn out to be, possibly, just another mad man with a gun or a honorable soldier in service to his country is a decision that has been entrusted to you, and from what you have told me it seems that you have already made up your mind. I wish you nothing but success with your_ _‘project’._

_With the highest regards,_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 

Venom has absolutely no idea what to make of this. Connecting the dots seems a lot more difficult than it should be, because something about this just feels way too - private, and he’s intruding on it. It’s right in front of him but he still can’t fully grasp it. Or something not _wanting_ him to grasp it. Should he even tell Big Boss about any of his findings? All of this dates back to the 40s or 50s, judging by the quality and formatting of the paper alone, he can’t imagine it would still be relevant in any way.

Well, that leaves him with the two notebooks. He’s going to call it a day after those.

Not expecting anything conclusive, Venom feels himself freezing up and his heart skipping a beat immediately upon seeing the handwriting - or rather, scrawl.

 

_I dont know why I have to do this. not good with words, writing is annoying and take to long_

 

He immediately skips to the next page, which is much cleaner, easy to read. Less mistakes, too. He searches for dates. There are none.

 

_I have to be good with words ~~becouse~~ BECAUSE words are the first line of defense and the first line of attack. Most if not all conflicts in the world are waged with words first, weapons second. I have to be good with words so I can ~~articuleyte~~ ARTICULATE my plans and actions and make other people do what I need them to do, if I can't do it myself._

 

This is a…journal?

This goes on for a few more pages, mostly thoughts and observations that have been jotted down - though whether they are the writer’s own his highly questionable. Only a couple pages in Venom can’t even read most of it anymore, because it becomes a weird potluck of languages, starting with two entire pages written in Cyrillic - Russian. But there’s a single comment, in English.

 

_No Soviet writes like that. Good job blowing your cover. You're dead._

 

He finds similar comments in other places, for other languages.

 

_Your h_ _ànzì are even worse than your spoken Mandarin. Impressive._

_The Nazis would have shot you on the spot for raping their language like this._

Wow, that’s… harsh. Just looking through this Venom can’t help but feel really pissed on behalf of the writer - granted, he’s absolute shit with languages himself, so he can’t judge the quality. Still reads like someone was being mean just for the sake of being mean, or had unrealistically high standards.

Venom skips ahead, noting in passing that a few pages seem to have been torn out. The language mix persists throughout the journal, making it hard to make much sense of it, even when he reaches parts that are accompanied with annotated anatomical sketches, and simple yet very descriptive drawings of torture methods.

Venom only manages to read a few more comments in English and French -

 

 _I wasn't_   _aware that getting your stomach cut open and having all your guts fall out_ _ doesn_ _’t _ _necessarily result in death. If the individual receives medical care in a timely manner, and no vital organ has been damaged, all you have to do is put them back in and sew the stomach close. So it_ _’s absolutely essential to remember to_ _ not _ _start to panic, unlike the guy I worked on. Made it really difficult [_ _…] Hypothermia occurs when the body’s temperature drops below 95 degrees. Accompanying symptoms are confusion, exhaustion, lack of coordination among others. Can be induced artificially to aid interrogation by […] called tiger bench, an interrogation technique that originated and is commonly used in China. The subject’s legs are tied to a wooden bench by means of rope or belts and bricks are placed, one after another, below the subject’s feet until […]_

He doesn’t know if it’s the nature of the contents he’s reading that makes him feel like he’s being watched, but the moment Venom’s eyes pause he’s suddenly on edge, and the air feels thinner, like he’s not the only one breathing it.

It is pure animal instinct when he spins around, drawing his knife to stab whatever’s lurking in the darkness.

Or Big Boss, who catches his wrist, and the knife’s tip never touches him. Venom relaxes and sighs, relieved. Sneaky bastard.

“You… Boss, Christ. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Why are you here?” His voice is flat. Quiet.

“I was bored - looked around, found this… I gotta show you. It’s crazy.”

Venom tries to turn around again, reach for the journals, shine his flashlight on all the weird shit surrounding them. But Big Boss’s grasp grows tighter. He won’t let him.

“I asked you: _why_ are you here?” He repeats his question.

“…What does it matter? I just told you. Boss, look - “

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Big Boss growls, pulling hard at Venom’s wrist, hard enough to make him almost trip over his own feet.

And then Venom realizes. He doesn’t care because he already knew. He’s bothered because now Venom knows that he knows. That he found something on his own. That he crossed an invisible line.

“You’ve been here before,” he states, levelly. The dots are connecting. It’s not the epiphany Venom had hoped it would be - he just feels betrayed, untrusted.

“Get out,” Big Boss grates, with clenched teeth.

“You’ve been here before and you lied to me about it. Why?”

This time, Big Boss’s answer consists of a resounding backhand that splits his lip and makes him drop his knife. That was meant to hurt. Not in a good way.

“Was there something ambiguous about ‘get out’?”

Venom doesn’t even look at him when he gives he responds, a monotone, “No…sir.”

Big Boss takes the flashlight from him, light the way back to the stairs for him. Not much else he can do now but follow orders again. Venom swallows down his rising anger and leaves, taking two steps at once, and rushes outside with quick, sweeping steps. The sun is already starting to set again, making him realize just how much time he spent down there.

There’s a pile of fresh fish next to their campfire spot. No blood-crusted animal cadaver. Even from where he stands he can hear the trap door inside the cabin fall shut with a heavy, furious bang, and the bookcase being shoved back into its original spot.

Venom expects something to happen when Big Boss comes outside, something painful. And here’s how he knows that this isn’t a trivial matter at all, nothing that gets him pardoned eventually because he’s a brat and this is just what brats do.

Big Boss simply ignores him for the rest of the day. Doesn’t even look at him, not even when Venom provocatively stands in his way to get his attention. He goes to take a piss and prepares the fish and opens the bottle of vintage whiskey Venom had found in the cabin without a single word.

He just ignores him. Gives him the silent treatment. Like you would a fucking child that did something so horrendously bad, so disappointing that dad doesn’t even want to talk to you anymore.

And that hurts more than anything else he can think of. The silence makes him want to scream to fill it with something.

 

***

 

It takes less than three hours until Venom reaches his breaking point. Outwardly, everything looks fine - Big Boss sits on one side of the lit campfire, Venom on the other. Boss had skewered the fish and they are currently roasting nicely over the fire, taking on a gold-brown color. No matter how hard he glares at Big Boss, the man won’t look at him even once. Just alternates between staring down the half-empty whiskey bottle and into the fire. Rotates the fish now and again so they get color on all sides.

Fine. Fucking _fine_.

“I’m not playing this game,” Venom finally breaks the silence. If Big Boss won’t talk to him, well, he’s going to talk _at him_ , at the very least. Even if that makes him furious. Getting the brunt of his anger is better than getting no reaction at all.

“And I am fed up with your silence. I bet you think it’s an appropriate punishment for being so _nosy_.”

Still no reaction. Venom sighs. Yeah, right, just pretend to be deaf.

“I don’t fucking get it. You could’ve just told me that you’ve been here before -”

“I haven’t been here before,” Big Boss grunts suddenly, a little slurred. Seems like the whiskey is doing its part. “Or maybe once or twice, long time ago. Doing my hunting guide thing. Who the hell cares. Always askin’ me about this kinda shit.”

Does he just not realize what he’s doing…? Is his answer to problems either violence or pretending they don’t exist at all?

“…Right,” Venom exhales. Exasperated. “You know. I should be used to it by now, but I really, really hate it when you lie to me.”

“You know what I hate? When you talk so fucking much,” Big Boss counters, and hurls the bottle of whiskey at him. Venom just barely dodges it. “I hate your entitlement, like you have a fundamental right to know everything about my life, because ooooh, I’m Big Boss, and you’re Big Boss, ‘cause you know, they cloned my brain, only actually, that’s not really how it works. You don’t have my brain and you don’t know anything.”

“I’m… I’m _entitled_?” Venom doesn’t even know how to reply to that, at first. “I was _literally_ brainwashed into thinking and acting like you, and you think I’m too entitled wanting to be informed about things?! To understand you better? And trying to figure it out myself when you’re too much of a jackass to tell me directly?” By the end of it, he’s very nearly yelling.

“You’re a nosy shit is what you are,” says Big Boss, getting up from his spot without ever touching any of the fish again - what he picks up, instead, is his rifle he’s been carrying around with him since he found it. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause I haven’t properly fucked you into your too-drunk-on-dick-to-think headspace yet? But hey, doesn’t matter. If that’s how you wanna do things from here on out be my guest. Go on and figure shit out yourself. You know better anyway, right? You always did, huh, doc.”

He wipes over his mouth with the back of his hand and turns around to leave, back into woods where he’s already spent the entire day. Venom’s wide-eyed gaze follows his back. His hands are curled into fists and shaking from the rage.

“Yeah, you run away, like you always do! You’re very good at that - _phenomenal_ , dare I say! That’s how we deal with problems! Come back whenever you’re ready to beat the shit out of me, because it’s not like _I know you at all_ at this point!”

Now he is definitely yelling.

The thing is, he knows all of this, this entire argument - it’s incredibly meaningless and childish. From both sides. And this is really… really not how he’d hoped this week would go. All because he accidentally found a secret spooky basement in a fucking cabin and Big Boss is getting defensive about it for some reason. And now he’s ending the day the same way he started it.

Alone.

Fuck this. Fuck this trip and fuck that cabin and fuck Big Boss. Venom covers his face in his hands and screams into his palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have definitely been watching too many spoopy lets plays lately


End file.
